Page 47 of Stepping Up to the Plate

“The big deal is that he’s playing against my best friend!”

“I thought I was your best friend,” she pouts, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Don’t worry, Babs, you’re my bestie,” Carina promises.

“Thanks, Meatball. I always knew I edged out Robby, but it’s nice to have the confirmation.”

“Can you ladies please focus? I am trying not to have a panic attack over here!”

“Oh my God, drink this,” Carina insists, handing me a seltzer. “Why are you freaking out, Bunny? You’ve seen them both play before. And this is not the first time they’ve played each other. They’re professionals. They’re focused on the game, not their connection to you.”

“I know, I know,” I mutter. “But this is the first time they’ve played each other since I started dating Brady, and you know how protective Georgie can be.”

“Still weird that you call him Brady,” Tiffany says with a mouth full of hotdog.

“Shut up,” I grumble.

“Don’t talk with a weiner in your mouth, Tiff. Guys don’t like that,” Carina quips.

“I can guarantee you, they do. You should try it some time,” she retorts.

“Y’all are too much,” I sign. “I’m worried they’re going to figure it out before they meet later.”

“Wait. What do you mean ‘figure it out’?” Tiffany questions. “Oh shit. Do they not know about each other?”

“Lola, how have you not told them about each other?” Carina chastises.

“I have!” I reply. And that’s true in a technical sense. I talk about Georgie to Brady all the time. I’ve told him stories from growing up together and recount conversations I had with him, but I haven’t told him who he is to the rest of the world. To me, he’s just Georgie, the guy who helped me make it through high school. Who he is to the rest of the world doesn’t matter.

As for Georgie, I told him I am seeing someone and that I want him to meet him while he’s in town. I may have neglected to mention that he was also a professional baseball player. Or say his last name.

“If you have, why are you worried?” Carina asks.

“I talk about them to each other often. But I haven’tnecessarilyrevealed either of their last names or that they both play baseball.”

“Lola, noooo,” my cousin groans.

“I am elated that I decided to come to this game,” Tiffany squeals gleefully. “Tonight is going to be epic.”

“It won’t be too bad, right? They both care about me. They’ll probably find it hilarious,” I mutter mostly to myself.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Lo,” Carina responds hesitantly.

“Why?”

“They’re getting a little chippy with each other on first base. Do they have a history?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer. “Georgie has been with the Foxes organization his entire career and Miller has been on the Songbirds for years.”

Carina gives me a commiserative glance as we both watch Robby launch the ball back to Brady at first and miss tagging Georgie out by a hair. The antagonist that he is, Georgie gives him a shit-eating grin before stealing second on the next play. This may not go as smoothly as I hoped.

* * *

Sitting in the VIP section of Holler's, I fiddle with the straw in my vodka soda. I should probably have stuck to seltzer, but my nerves require hard liquor.

“You’re way too pretty to be drinking alone,” a deep voice says from behind me.

“Georgie!” I shout, jumping up to hug him. “I’ve missed you. You played amazing tonight! How are you? How is Mama? And you sisters? You look buff. Have you changed up your routine?”

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